


We Left the Camaro on the Road Leaving Sina

by stover



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fugitives, Government Conspiracy, Human Experimentation, Kidnapping, M/M, Military Science Fiction, On the Run, Psychological Trauma, Titan Shifting, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stover/pseuds/stover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High-school genius Eren Jaeger and college drop-out Jean Kirschstein are forced to take two ordinary cops hostage on their way to deliver a body to a doctor in Shiganshina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we're just a little buzzed, is all

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to the 8tracks fanmix [here](http://8tracks.com/aestover91/we-left-the-camaro-on-the-road-leaving-sina).

“The fuck do you mean you lost the keys?”

Eren scowled, ripping his jacket off and making a show of searching through it. “What do you _think_ it means?”

Jean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed cold fingers to the sides of his head just as Eren began flapping his jacket in the night air. “This isn't happening right now. This is _not_ happening. I knew I shouldn't have taken you. I _knew_ something like this would happen.”

“Quit bitching and help me look.”

“Look _where?_ Last time I checked, you shoved your keys into your pants. Wanna spread 'em so I can pat you down?”

“Fuck you.” Eren tossed his jacket onto the hood of a bright yellow Camaro and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants for the third time since they left the diner. Eren came to a slow pause as the wheels churned inside his head. “Maybe they fell out while we were leaving,” he said as he looked at Jean. “We should go back.”

“Yeah, sure, let's just go back in and get them. Oh, wait a minute! We _can't._ Because we fucking ditched the bill and squeezed our asses out the bathroom window 'cause _somebody_ left their wallet in the car.”

Eren's face scrunched up. “Well, why can't _you_ pay?”

Jean's fist pitched forward before he knew it was moving. Eren quickly side-stepped out of the way like the little shit he was, so Jean's fist ended up cracking into metal. Jean retracted his hand immediately as the Camaro's headlights flashed. He glared at the large dent he'd made and cursed through gritted teeth because Eren-fucking-Jeager’s relationship with his car was stronger than the force that kept them all grounded.

“My car!” the little shit cried, as if Jean had just punched his mom. “You _dented_ my car! I can't believe you—”

“I'm about to dent your _face_ if you don't shut up—”

_**BANG BANG BANG** _

Loud thuds thundered from the trunk. The Camaro rocked, squeaking uncertainly in the dead of night. Its headlights flickered again. Eren flew away from his beloved car and was standing behind Jean in a heartbeat. In one of his wiser moments, Jean decided not to comment on it.

Eren was frantic. “Shit, he's still _alive!_ Jean, what do we do? What if he gets out of there? Do we... You know _—_ do the _thing?_ What if someone sees? Do we still—”

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ _,_  Eren, I don't  _know._ Just — shut up, okay? Just shut up.”

Eren narrowed his eyes. “Sorry for keeping our safety in mind, horse shit. I'm just trying to help. I'm not even the one who fucked this all up in the first place. I'm just trying to do you a favor and—”

Jean whirled around with a hiss. “For the love of god, can you just shut up for one second in your life!? It's like you can't—” Eren's hand was suddenly pushing into Jean's face, smooshing his lips mid-sentence. 

“ _Shhh!”_ Eren even had the audacity to command.

Anger had never dropped by to say hello so fast. Jean slapped Eren's hand off his face. He had half a mind to throw the kid into the trunk, and the only thing stopping him was the fact that _that_ could endanger them _all_. And the fact that Eren wasn't looking at Jean. The so-called high school “genius” was just... _staring._  Off to the side, somewhere down the road, something had fully grasped the attention of Eren Jaeger; enough to make the fidgety teen stand stock-still, as if someone had jammed metal rods up his limbs and through his spine. It was rare for Eren to get like this. _Incredibly_ rare, because Eren was usually late to get off whatever had him hyped off long enough to sense that something was off. And when he finally got to that point, it was usually too late.

Jean turned around. Flashing lights shone in the distance. Jean could already make out the faces of the people inside the approaching cop car.

Ho-oh, yeah. It was _definitely_ too late.

Jean turned back to Eren, ready to propose that they finally switch on the auto of the Camaro, when he saw Eren with his hand leveled to his mouth. The flashing lights pitched an eerie glow on Eren's face; green eyes glinted sharply against the bright lights, and Jean saw Eren's lips part.

Then, Eren closed his teeth around his hand.

Adrenaline rushed through his blood; Jean grabbed Eren's wrist and twisted his arm back. He shoved Eren against the car, ignoring both Eren's wide-eyed stare and the Camaro's alarmed chirping.

Eren flailed like a fox caught in a trap. “H-Hey!Watch it, you asshole! Watch the goddamn car!”

Jean leaned sharply back to avoid being hit in the face. Jean used his own free hand to pin Eren's flailing arm to his side.

“Jean, you fucking—! Wh-What are you _doing?”_

Jean finally snapped. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? What am _I_ doing? Are you really that fucking dense? What the hell are _you_ doing, you suicidal piece of shit!?”

“ _You_ came at me first! And I don't know what the fuck you're even going on about!”

Jean yanked one of Eren's arms up by the wrist and flopped Eren's hand between their faces. _“This!_ I'm talking about _this!_ What you were just about to do with _this!”_

“Well, ex _cuse_ me for trying to save your ass! And stop—! Just let go of me already! Will you stop it!?  I said to let _go!”_

Jean released Eren. But he didn't move away. Instead, and probably against his better judgment, Jean took a step closer so that Eren was physically sandwiched between himself and the Camaro. He bent his neck down so his forehead was almost touching Eren's as he looked down. A chill shocked his spine as their eyes met; Eren's green eyes were alight with a murderous glare, and Jean almost backed off. But he didn't. “Did you really think doing _that_ will get us out of trouble?” He spoke lowly, and continued only when he saw the slightest glimmer of confusion flash across Eren's face like lightning. “Think hard about where we are. We're right outside Sina. Think about what could happen if you did _that.”_

Eren snarled and forced himself out of Jean's hold. Jean let the teen shove him away and gladly took the few steps back to put some much-needed space between them. He eased up, but kept his eyes on Eren; the kid was still fuming, but the way his face pinched together like he'd just swallowed something sour let Jean know he'd gotten some sense knocked into him. Jean waited until the fury in Eren's eyes died out a bit — until the glint in those green eyes mellowed out to a low-burning flare.

Illuminated by flashing lights, Jean watched Eren's face slowly unfold from rage until Eren was just glaring at his own feet in silence.

Jean heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Look — the last thing we need is for you to lose your shit where people are still around. Take a deep breath and chill out. Leave this to me and just — just _trust_ me, okay?”

There was, surprisingly, an awkward and brittle silence after Jean finished speaking. Jean watched the anger on Eren's face unhook and drop into exhaustion as the lights flashed around them in the dark.

Sulking in silence, Eren finally nodded his head.

Jean turned toward the blinding lights and squinted just as the cop car came to a slow stop about 3 feet away from them. Someone cut the lights and cool darkness fell upon them.

The door opened.

 


	2. you're the one who's tipsy, not me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow. We've come full cycle already.”

He left the diner with Hanji tagging along. 

“You'll come, won't you? I'll even bleach the whole place clean!” 

“Your apartment needs burning, not cleaning.” 

“Are you offering your services? When can you come by?” 

Levi was about to tell Hanji off when hushed, angry whispers and grunts weaved over the parking lot to fill his ears. He kept on his path to the car, but gave extra attention to the noises just in case it happened to be something needing his presence. 

And to tune Hanji out. 

“Ha, Levi— You look like Mike when you do that. It's really cute! All you need is a furry coat... I can get you one, if you'd like! I've got plenty! I dress up like Mike sometimes when I need inspiration, and I've found that it helps a lot, and—” 

Levi shoved a wad of napkins into Hanji's mouth. “One,” he began tersely as Hanji made a face while pulling them out, “shut up _._ Two,” Levi clicked his remote to unlock their car, “does Mike know you named your dog after him?” 

Hanji grinned. “Of course he does! Mike and Mike get along so well.”

It was Levi's turn to make a face. He settled with wiping out their conversation altogether and getting into the car. Hanji mimed his motions, though keeping the smile and humming brightly.

“I don't like you drunk.” 

Hanji laughed. “I'm not drunk! I only had three beers! I'm just a little buzzed, and... Is it just me or are two guys squeezing out the window together over there?” 

“It's not just you.” 

“Ah, okay. Then, yeah. Not drunk. Just buzzed.” 

Levi grunted and leaned his elbow against the window of his car. He and Hanji sat in silence together, watching the idiot duo squeeze and wriggle themselves out the window together. There seemed to be a big age gap between the two; one looked about fifteen while the other looked to be in his mid twenties. The younger one had on a worn leather jacket the color of shit while the taller one had something wrong with his hair (dye it properly, jackass). _They_ were the ones Levi had heard making those sounds. 

The older one got out of the window first; he'd pushed the younger one back in to get out and was now facing his buddy with arms spread open. _Jump,_ he seemed to be saying. _Fuck you and your crappy hair_ , the younger one seemed to answer. Maybe. Levi couldn't tell, really. He was shit at reading lips, and he could barely hear their voices now. The brat's face sure as hell fit; Levi couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a face so furious. 

Oh wait, he could. It was this morning, when Erwin told him he'd been re-assigned to tag with Hanji because Mike had other business to take care of. 

“Wonder what they're doing... Ah...!” Hanji giggled and leaned into him with a perverted grin. “Do you think...” 

“Diner ditchers,” Levi sighed and cut in before Hanji could ruin his night with some oddball story.

Hanji sighed too, but dramatically so, dipping face-first into the dashboard. “You're never any fun.”

“We're on the job.” 

“We finished hours ago!” 

“I'm still on the job.”

“We had beers!” 

“ _You_ had beers. _Three_ beers. _I'm_ still on the job.” 

Hanji gave a deep, guttural groan. “You're never any fun.”

“Wow. We've come full cycle already.” 

“Hey, the brown one's getting out!” 

“They're both wearing brown.” 

“Yeah, but one of them's... brown...er...” 

“...Okay, sure.” 

Hanji was referring to the bratty-looking teenager. Said brat was awkwardly hanging onto the windowsill with his legs clumsily draped over the shoulders of the older one with a crappy dye job. The older one grabbed the bratty teenager's legs, and five whole fucking minutes had to pass before said brat could even let go of the window. Mr. I-have-zero-fashion-sense seemed to be verbally directing the teeny-bopper with how to move, since the idiot only let go of things and grabbed onto new things after the mouth on the older one moved. With the way the brat was grabbing onto the older guy's head, Levi guessed the brat had some sort of phobia with heights. That, and the frozen look of terror combined with the teen's refusal to looking anywhere but straight again. 

Oh, wait, the brat looked down. And he looks to be hyperventilating. And pulling on crap-styled hair. 

Surprisingly, the older guy wasn't yelling or threatening to cut his hands off. Rather, he looked more concerned than annoyed. The older guy spoke for a few moments, looking up at the acrophobic teen. After some odd minutes of speaking and leg-patting, the younger one seemed to finally pull the metal rod out of his spine and relax somewhat. Then, the older guy slowly crouched down to the ground.

The teen was on the ground faster than Levi could blink. 

But not fast enough. “That was cute! I'm sending this to Mike!” 

Levi pretended not to hear Hanji's cheery humming and resolutely continued his ignoring even as Hanji read aloud the caption that would be sent to Mike along with a photo of the idiot duo.

“Two cute brunets... No, two _sexy_ brunets... Just your type...”

“One of them's, like, fifteen. That's pedophilia.” 

“That's what makes it hilarious!” Hanji declared, and started to giggle. 

Levi started the engine, hoping to drown out the giggling. It worked a little too well; the car fell silent save for the steady rumbling of the car. Levi chanced a look to the side.

Hanji was not smiling anymore. 

The phone lit Hanji's face with an eerie blue light; Hanji's mouth was drawn in a tight line. All evidence of Hanji's previous glee was gone. 

Levi turned to face Hanji fully just as Hanji looked up from the phone to stare at him. 

“You won't believe what Mike just sent me,” Hanji said, turning the phone toward him. 

Levi peered at the screen. It was a picture of a student ID from Trost High School. A young teen with neat brown hair and bright green eyes shone on the screen. EREN JAEGER, read the name printed on the card. 

 _[Kidnapped. Stay on him. Keep me posted.]_ read Mike's message underneath. 

Against his better judgment, Levi shot out of his car. He'd opened his door a little bit too noisily, and his movements were a little too jerky to not be noticed, but it turned out not to matter. 

The two from earlier were gone. 

Levi slammed the door shut as he re-entered the car. 

“You won't believe what Erwin just sent me about the other guy.” 

“Let me guess. His best friend,” Levi drawled. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Don't tell me the Jaeger brat's got Stockholm. What the fuck. What the fucking fuck—” 

“Actually, it's not.”

Hanji shoved the phone in his face again. 

An old photo of a young man in a military uniform from the forties showed on screen. He was standing with a young blonde woman by his side, and with two other men about his age in the background. 

[Jean Kirschstein. Deceased, December 1944.] 

Levi stared at the message. “So... is Jean supposed to be that guy's father, or what?” 

Hanji pulled the phone away with a scowl. “You know that's not possible! If his father died in '44, how could _he_ be here? And in his twenties?” 

Levi narrowed his eyes. “So, what is this? Some kind of joke?” 

“I... don't know? Let's ask him!” 

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, let's — Let's just leave this be.” He switched on the headlights to the car and began to pull out of his parking space. 

“But what about that kid? What if he was really kidnapped?” 

Levi braked at the lot entryway and gave Hanji a long look. “Left or right?” 

Hanji blinked. “Hah?” 

“Left. Or right. Pick one. If we see them, we'll pull them over and have a chat. If we don't, then whatever.” 

“Levi! That Eren kid could really be in trouble!” 

“Didn't look like it to me.” 

“You don't know that! You said it yourself — it could be Stockholm! Don't you care about—” 

Levi reached over and grabbed Hanji's face. His fingers squeezed fleshy cheeks and, while that normally would have reduced his idiot partner into a fit of giggles, Hanji was not laughing in the slightest. “There are over two thousand kids being reported missing on a daily basis. There's a department that handles that, and it's definitely not ours. We have our own cases to deal with, and taking care of some teenage brat is not on our list of priorities. Did you forget we're already on a case?” 

Hanji shoved Levi's hand off and furiously turned away. “I haven't forgotten,” Hanji snapped. “I just thought—” 

“We can't save them all.” 

Hanji didn't respond. 

“You know that. _I_ know that. But we have to pick our battles. And we're already face-deep in a shitty one.” 

“...I know.” 

Levi gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “So? Which way do we go?” 

Hanji sat with crossed arms and a face full of defeat. “Just go left. We can't be late again.” 

“Left it is, then.” Levi turned the car to drive south toward Trost. He flicked on the lights to humor his partner, and Hanji's arms uncrossed a few minutes into the drive. They remained silent, and for once Levi found himself missing Hanji's inane comments and oddball stories. 

The hesitant peace cut short however, when Levi caught sight of two males shoving each other against a yellow car. The idiots from the diner, Levi realized with a start. He saw Hanji straighten up out of the corner of his eye.

“Looks like they're part of our case now, Levi,” Hanji said, voice oddly soft and not at all mixing well with the ominous glint appearing behind wire-rimmed glasses. 

Levi grunted his response, watching the way the diner ditchers froze upon catching sight of their flashing lights. He braked and cut the engine some distance away from them.

Hanji was out the door before he can kill the lights.

 


	3. can't we all just get along?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean knew there was space for two in that trunk. He _knew._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you didn't know, the chapters will toggle back and forth from Jean's POV and Levi's POV.
> 
> Also, this chapter was written in 10 minutes so it's really sloppy and I just. I'm sorry. I'll go back and clean it up??? Soon??? /o\

The door opened, and the number of idiots on the road instantly doubled.

“Ohhh,” a uniformed cop with auburn hair and glasses crooned, bounding instantly to the front of Eren’s car. “It’s a _Camaro_ ,” she whispered with a trembling grin. She bent down to lay her cheek and hands on its surface. Suddenly, she froze. She snapped her head up and stared at Jean and Eren, as if she were registering they existed _just now_. She didn't look sheepish, or even hesitant. Just… Hopeful??  “Can I touch it?”

Jean noted the odd glint in her crazy eyes. _This_ is who the people’s tax dollars are going to?? Tragic.

“Sure,” Eren said with such gusto and affability and absolutely _zero_ hesitation that Jean wanted to slap him upside the head.

“Ohhhh, _thank_ youuuuu!” Hanji gushed, words melting away to snorting giggles and babbling praise as she rubbed her cheek against the hood of the Camaro, hands petting the surface in an oddly perverse manner.

Eren actually looked like he regretted saying yes.

At that, Jean was satisfied. It served him right to be an idiot with an idiot.

His satisfaction was quickly squashed when he heard the sound of another door open. Jean turned carefully to see who it was.

There was a uniformed man with dark hair and light skin standing next to the car. The guy barely stood above the hood of his car, but the look in his eyes told Jean that _yes_ , his tax dollars were funding a uniformed idiot who went drooling after a stranger’s car with no care to safety at all; but _yes_ , his tax dollars were funding _this_ guy, too.

Said guy was definitely the more competent of the two. He at least _behaved_ like a cop should when confronting two folks on the road in the dead of night: slightly cautious and a tad bit annoyed. The guy chose to remain beside the car. Jean noted the calculating look in his eyes and the deadly precision to his movements; after he’d stepped out, the man’s right hand rested on the door handle, ready to re-enter and high-tail it out of here in a moment’s notice — probably even _without_ his partner, judging by the way he was glaring at Hanji.

The same hand was also centimeters away from his gun holster.

A bubbling guffaw shifted Jean’s attention back. The uniformed lady was talking again.

“Ah-ha, sorry about that! I hope I didn’t completely freak you out. I just got really excited! My dad had a Camaro, and I’ve always wanted to drive it when I was a little girl. I never really got the chance to, though. He died before I could learn, and my mom had to sell the car to support me and my brothers…”

A flash of empathy went over Eren’s face. When Jean saw it, he wanted to bury Eren’s head six feet under. _Stop empathizing with them! They’re_ cops _, goddammit! Did you forget what we’re_ doing _?!_

“I’m sorry,” Eren murmured, completely oblivious to Jean’s telepathic rage. “I’m Eren, by the way! It's nice to meet you.” Eren smiled. He even outstretched his hand for a quick shake.

 _He's fifteen_ , Jean reminded him as he glared, _a high school idiot with a shitty understanding of the outside world._

The uniformed lady grinned brightly. “I’m Hanji! _Hey!_ Would you mind if I hitched a ride for just a few—” A loud gurgle interrupted her, and she clamped a hand to her stomach. “Levi!” She squawked in humiliation, presumably at the short man behind Jean. “I _told_ you I’d get hungry! You never listen!”

The man called Levi grumbled under his breath. Jean picked it up clearly, despite the low tone; _“I bought you a burrito, you weirdo.”_

“There’s a diner just down the road where you came,” Eren offered helpfully. “We just came from there. It’s pretty good, actually.”

Hanji’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Thank you!” She turned to Levi with a sour look. “I _told_ you it was a diner!” She turned back to Eren with a smile. “Sorry I keep doing that. My partner’s an ass.”

Eren’s brows shot up. “Um,” he said, looking quickly at Jean as if to ask for help.

Jean ignored Eren and glanced behind him instead. He didn’t miss the look of annoyance that crossed the man’s face. Huh. So he didn’t like his partner all that much, Jean noted.

“Shouldn’t you kids be in school?” The man called Levi snarked. 

Jesus, what a mood the guy was in. Jean didn't blame him; he doubted he'd fair any better if he had to travel with someone like Hanji. He'd take Eren over Hanji any day.

"Say, yeah," Hanji joined, humming thoughtfully as she cleaned her glasses and looked them over a second time. "You guys don't exactly look like frat boys gearin' up for a road trip over the break. Y'know what I'm sayin'?"

While Hanji just looked genuinely puzzled, Levi looked downright suspiciously at the two of them. Jean caught that calculating look on his face again, casting wary eyes back and forth between him and Eren. He was trying to place them; see how old they were, where they might be coming from. Possibly if they were wanted.

Jean had no clue if they were wanted (not yet, at least). But he's not even supposed to exist, as far as Sina Central knows, so he should be safe at least.

“Our dad’s sick,” Jean said, sticking to their main cover story for now. “We’re going to see him, so we’re taking the week off.” He nodded in Eren’s direction. “That’s my kid brother.”

Eren whirled around with wide eyes. “Whoa, what? No. That’s _not_ what we agreed.”

Jean was going to _kill_ his motherfucking ass, he swore to _every_ God in existence.

Eren wrinkled his nose and pointed right at Jean. “He’s only my step-brother,” he said, looking highly offended. “He keeps thinking cheesecake is enough of a bribe for me to drop the "step" in "step-brother," the asshole. As if I’d ever want to be blood relatives with a horse face like his.”

Hanji snorted, nudging Eren’s side with her arm and flashing him a grin. Eren seemed to revel in it, giving Jean a smug look and sending him a look that dared him to say something in return.

Jean knew there was space for two in that trunk. He _knew_.

Instead, he rubbed at his temples. “Whatever! Keep the family drama out, okay? Now’s not the time for that!”

“You know what it _can_ be time for, though?” Hanji mused aloud, running her hands along her uniform pockets until she found her phone. “An info swap!” She leaned into Eren’s shoulder, moving her phone so the two of them could look down at her screen. “See, we’ve been tailing this really bad guy these past few days, and we ran straight into a dead end. So! Since it looks like you’ve been driving a while, maybe you’ve seen something on the road. Have you ever seen this guy around?”

Jean felt movement beside him and turned sharply, only to be greeted by photo on the screen of someone’s phone.

It was Levi’s phone. Levi was holding out his phone to Jean’s face.

Jean glanced at Levi’s pissed off (he kinda looked constipated) face before taking a look at the phone.

It was a man with dark skin and a red afro. He was holding a small black box in his hands and looking over his shoulder, face partially hidden by the raised collar of his overcoat.

Jean leaned back a bit. “That’s not much to go on.”

“Sorry,” Eren said. “I’ve never seen someone like him before.”

Hanji nodded and stared intently at the screen. “Be careful,” she said quietly, looking at the two of them. “This guy’s been stepping up his game, I hear. His name’s Ishmael Langton, and he’s a wanted serial killer.”

Jean and Eren exchanged a look. A very human serial killer had a very slim chance of harming a titan shifter and a vampire, but these two didn’t need to know that.

“We’ll be safe,” Eren promised, nodding at Hanji.

Hanji’s solemn stare lifted, and a broad smile graced her features once more. “Say, Eren,” she began conversationally. “Can I ask you a stupid question?”

Jean couldn’t help but roll his eyes when Eren grinned just as broadly and answered affirmatively.

“Why are you on our list as a kidnapped minor?”

Ice plunged into his veins. Shit.

Shitshitshit, fuck, _shit—!_ Fucking hell, _fuck_ , motherfucker you stupid, piece of shit vamp— FUCK!

A familiar whimper caught his ears, and Jean looked up to see Eren's face dropping with an emotional weight. “Please," Eren whispered with all the terror of a child. "Please don’t tell my mom.” 

Guild flooded through him like a crashing wave, because in that moment Jean remember Eren was only fifteen. Eren talked like he was big, acted like he was big, even thought like he was big. But in the end, Eren was only fifteen. He was a high school teenager, and a top student at that. He should be stressing out over tests and dates and overbearing parents, not over how long it would take before someone caught them with some guy's body in the trunk of a car. And _his_ car; it was Eren's car they were using.

He never should have brought him along. Eren didn't belong here, he belonged at home, with his mother Karla—

“Please. My mom doesn’t know I’m going to see my father.”

—What.

“I-I didn’t know what else to do! My mom hates him! I didn’t even find out about it until my Nana called me, and now it might be too late, and I just...”

Jean watched numbly as Eren cried his crocodile tears. He had to admit that he was completely blown away by Eren’s little act. _Fucking hell,_ he then thought. _This little shit’s an even bigger little shit._ Jean inwardly cursed. _Just how many times had Eren lied to him, then??_ He was willing to bet his life that _Eren_ was the one who kept taking the last slice of cheesecake like the fucking brat he is.

Hanji was, unsurprisingly, tearing up right next to Eren. “Oh, honey,” she said, eyes soft with sympathy and kindness and a bunch of other emotions Jean couldn’t believe he was seeing. _You’re a cop!_ he wanted to scream. _Don’t you realize he’s being a little bitch?! Or a grimy cheesecake muncher?!?_

A sharp exhale of breath made Jean turn around again.

Levi was grumbling once more ( _“what a fucking waste of time”_ ). He opened the door to the driver’s seat and looked back. “Hanji. We have to go.”

Hanji sniffled and blew her nose into her handkerchief, and she handed it to Eren and Jean had the great displeasure to learn that it was _Eren’s_ handkerchief, and ew, _god_ , was that disgusting.

“I’m coming,” she said, wiping at her eyes under the frames of her glasses. She clapped a hand on Eren’s shoulders, who was easing up a little on the crying now and only sniffling and tearing quietly. “Don’t worry, Eren. I won’t tell a soul. You go and find your father!”

Eren glanced back at the cop car. "What about your partner," he whispered lowly, playing every bit the nervous child he was supposed to be.

“I don’t care about your fucking sob story, kid,” Levi blurted sans warning, startling both Jean and Eren. Because that was a far distance for Eren's whisper to travel coherently.

Competent cop, in _deed_.

“Hanji, let’s go. We have to find Ishmael—”

_**BANG BANG BANG** _

A violent pounding from the trunk shook the whole Camaro.

Everyone fell into a dead silence.


	4. we're all crazy axe murderers, aren't we?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _These kids,_ Levi realized with a fast-beating heart, _are from Maria._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last I updated this was in January. Whoops. Teaching can do that to you. Keeping you away from your hobbies, I mean.
> 
> _~~pray for me *sobs*~~ _

Hanji was out the door before the lights were even off. Levi scowled; he had no idea what angle his partner was aiming to take with these two. Going in blind wasn’t something Levi did. He didn’t care if he had the abilities or the weapons or the manpower; in their department, what it all boiled down to was the single hard fact that they were humans and their enemies most likely were not.

Case in point, from what Levi could sense from the two teens Hanji was creeping out, these two were definitely not human.

Hanji was making some kind of weird, sensual noise and rubbing the hood of a yellow car. “Ohhh,” she moaned lightly, “it’s a Camaro.”

Levi heaved a heavy sigh. Weirdo One and Weirdo Two: that was Hanji’s angle with this. Okay. Okay. He could do that.

Suddenly, Hanji perked up, eyes hidden by glared lenses. The movement was quick and sudden; Levi thought he could hear gears twisting and churning in that wired mess of Hanji’s brain, no doubt to spit out the revolution of the century.

This isn’t a normal car, Hanji seemed to be thinking.

So, what do you want to do? Levi asked silently, raising an eyebrow at Hanji’s blank expression.

Hanji ignored Levi for the silent pair on the road. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure,” said one of the two, whom Levi dubbed “Exhibit A,” because the amount of trust and affability in that voice should not exist for a person in his situation. Sure, they had a cop car and were dressed in cop uniforms. But they could’ve been crazy axe murderers hiding the bodies of their victims in the trunk of a stolen car. Did Exhibit A think of that before extending his okay for a total stranger to touch his car? No. What if they were crazy axe murderers. Hanji was the machine freak; extracting information about them through their so-called “car” was child’s play for someone like Hanji. Didn’t they know that? No. Because they were idiots.

Correction: the younger one was an idiot. At least the older one (with a weedy excuse of a shitty undercut— Exhibit B, ladies and gents!) had the decency to glare suspiciously at them and shoot furious looks at his partner-in-crime. Or his victim. Lover? Who knows what they were to each other.

Just as Hanij erupted into a series of babbling and cooing and other noises Levi promptly ignored, Levi chose to step out of the car. Immediately, the older one turned to look at him, eyes narrowed, calculating, and cautious.

This one, Levi could tell, was dangerous. Not too dangerous — Levi registered him as mild on his asinine scale of danger — but dangerous nonetheless. There was some experience on his part that told him how to act around cops, but not enough to hide his blatant suspicion.

Then again, the poor guy could just be constipated. And stuck with an idiot. Levi stayed by the car, just in case this whole thing was a waste of time; he’d turn the car around and get back to business with or without Hanji.

Though, from the way Hanji was still gushing over the yellow car, it looked like Mr. Constipated would gain yet another idiot to add to his budding circus troupe.

Hanji launched into some fake monologue about always wanting to drive a Camaro. Levi listened, watching Exhibit A get ensnared by Hanji’s web of empathy while Exhibit B looked like he wanted to punch himself in the face.

Levi almost felt bad for the guy when Exhibit A introduced himself. With his actual name. The kid either had big balls or had a big shit for a brain.

Hanji’s stomach growled noisily in the middle of her introduction. “Levi!” she screeched, stupidly revealing both their names; why, thank you very much Hanji, you’re always so wise and all-knowing.

“I bought you a burrito, you weirdo,” he couldn’t help but grumble.

“There’s a diner just down the road from where you came,” Exhibit A spoke, eyes bright with some weird kind of Good Samaritan energy. “We just came from there. It’s pretty good, actually.”

Levi wrinkled his nose. ‘Pretty good’?? The diner served everything deep-fried in Death’s own blood, and the busboy used the same ketchup-and-coffee-stained rag for every table. ‘Pretty shitty’ was the more appropriate description. Fucking hell, these kids. These shitty kids! God. They were probably drop-outs, here to spend daddy’s cash on tits and ass way down in West Shiganshina. A fucking waste of time. Director Bodt was missing, and Erwin wanted his best dogs following these kids?

“Shouldn’t you kids be in school?” Levi snapped, once Hanji’s squawking had stopped and the idiot trio fell into a dull silence.

“Say, yeah,” Hanji hummed, sounding as if the thought lit up a bulb long forgotten. “You guys don’t exactly look like frat boys gearin’ up for a road trip over the break. Y’know what I’m sayin’?”

The one with an undercut and dangerous eyes looked his way for a split second. “Our dad’s sick,” he began in a tone all too familiar to Levi — just believe us and go; we’re shitting ourselves here, undercut was saying.

Shitting yourselves for what? That’s what Levi wanted to know. These kids— What did Erwin want from these kids?

“Whatever!” Undercut shouted through his teeth. “Keep the family drama out, okay? Now’s not the time for that!”

“You know what it can be time for, though?” Hanji mused aloud in that annoying sing-song voice. Hanji produced a phone out of a pocket, tapping lightning fast.

Bzzt. Levi felt his phone in his pocket. Hanji’d sent something to him. Huh. He raised the phone, opening the message.

It was a candid shot of Gunter from last year’s Halloween party. He was jetlagged and already drunk on Tequila (both it and the red afro were a gift from the she-devil, Petra Ral) by the time he got to Mike and Nana’s place. Hanji had camped by the doorway to take a shot of Gunter in all his bad, Hawaiian-sun, roasted glory and narrowly missed the shot when Nifa tackled into Hanji last minute, per her beloved Gunter’s request.

Why the fuck was Hanji sending this to him now?

“An info swap! See, we’ve been tailing this really bad guy these past few days, and we ran straight into a dead end…”

Oh. Levi’s seen this once before, with Director Bodt. Perpetual smile or not, there was a reason the guy was the Director for MP. Levi turned his phone around, walking closer to the older of the two boys. Undercut flinched upon Levi’s silent arrival. His eyes scanned the screen for a second before he put some space between them.

“That’s not much to go on,” he said.

His buddy Eren agreed. “Sorry. I’ve never seen someone like him before.”

Yeah, thought Levi, because he’s in Hawaii getting his retired ass roasted.

“Be careful,” said Hanji. “This guy’s been stepping up his game, I hear. His name’s Ishmael Langton, and he’s a wanted serial killer.”

Here was the trap. The territory outside Sina was infested with crime; the Underground had turned inside out 30 years ago, after the Maria Rebellion, and MP never really got the the common grounds back under control. If you were lucky you were in Sina. If your luck ran out, you wound up in Rose. Maria was a minefield of trouble; titans, ghouls, and reapers — the likes of which you’ve never seen ran whatever was in Maria to the ground. Few places remained. It was hell. It was death.

It was where Erwin operated from, as Commander of the Survey Corps.

The trap, though. Where was the trap?

Everyone and their mother had heard about Ishmael Langton. Heard about him getting executed, that is. Sina blasted it out of every radio tower and TV station it had, and news of MP’s latest deed trickled to the outer walls of Rose by word of mouth by nightfall.

The issue was this: everyone — and Levi meant everyone — knew about Ishmael Langton.

Unless you were from Maria.

These kids, Levi realized with a fast-beating heart, are from Maria.

“We’ll be safe,” Eren said solemnly, oblivious to the blatant hole the two of them had burned in their cover story.

“Say Eren… Can I ask you a stupid question?” Hanji smiled, a thin-lipped sort of smile that made Levi feel queasy. Because Hanji wasn’t a tactful person. Hanji was sharp, precise; Hanji was a million solutions to an infinite set of problems somehow condensed into one. But not tactful.

And so, Levi wasn’t shocked to hear the next words Hanji chose to say.

“Why are you on our list as a kidnapped minor?”

The two boys froze. Eyes widened like saucers. Their bodies shocked into stiffness.

Maria kids, Levi told himself, watching the two with careful eyes. Not human. The question had been a gamble. Hanji had thrown the dice; it may or may not be Levi’s turn. But Eren snatched the dice right from under Levi’s nose, surprising him the most of all with his move.

“Please,” Eren whispered like a child facing the end of a gun, “Please don’t tell my mom.”

Levi had been wrong. He’d been wrong, wrong, wrong. Here was the dangerous one; the unpredictable one. He was the danger. Undercut was a shitstain; Eren Jaeger was the real player here, and Undercut didn’t even know it.

“Please. My mom doesn’t know I’m going to see my father.”

There was a terror in Eren’s eyes that Levi recognized instantly, shooting a chill down his spine. It was a terror not for the situation he was in, nor for being caught-- It was a terror for his own thoughts: what he would do next, if they didn’t lay off; what he would become.

“I-I didn’t what else to do! My mom hates him! I didn’t even find out about it until my Nana called me, and now it might be too late, and I just…”

Whatever game Hanji was playing needed to stop. It was a waste of time; they needed to get out and get them while they were blind. Erwin, Levi mentally anguished, do you even know what you’re pushing us into?

“Hanji,” he called, using all the silent urgency he could manage to grab his partner’s attention. “We have to go.”

Mercifully, Hanji decided to follow Levi. “I’m coming,” she announced. Levi heard the delicate tone of her whisper as she counseled Eren. “Don’t worry, Eren. I won’t tell a soul. You go and find your father!”

“What about your partner,” Eren whispered in a wavering voice.

Levi lied through his fucking teeth. “I don’t care about your fucking sob story, kid. Hanji, let’s go. We have to find Ishmael—”

BANG BANG BANG

The Camaro rocked with the force of the pounding. It was coming from the trunk. From inside the trunk.

“Oof!” came a sound in Hanji’s voice.

Levi, thinking numbly back to his quip about crazy axe murders stashing dead bodies in the trunk of a stolen car, whipped his head around, hand at the weapon at his belt. But he was too late.

His world turned black.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "aestover91" & "suspendis91" on Tumblr. Tracking tags: "fic: SinaCamaro" for this work.


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